


In The Dark Of The Night (Just Before Dawn)

by Emily_F6



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: “Spider-Man’s real name is…Peter Parker!”Peter jerked awake, hands gripping the sheets under his fingers and looking wildly around the room, the familiar sight of the bare white walls doing nothing to lessen his anxiety.  Pressing a hand to his chest, he sat upright, choking on one wheezy breath after the other as he struggled to breathe.  It was real.  It hadn’t just been a nightmare...it had been a memory.  Beck had outed him.  On live TV.  Everyone knew...everyone knew he was Spider-Man.  And everyone thought he was a murderer.  He’d seen the news stories before he’d come here...before they had found him.OrWhen Peter's identity is revealed by Beck, he does the only thing he can think of to keep the people he loves safe...he runs.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 151
Collections: The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	In The Dark Of The Night (Just Before Dawn)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [canonismybitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonismybitch/gifts).



**_This fic is a gift for canonismybitch. I hope you enjoy!! <3_ **

“Spider-Man’s real name is…Peter Parker!”

Peter jerked awake, hands gripping the sheets under his fingers and looking wildly around the room, the familiar sight of the bare white walls doing nothing to lessen his anxiety. Pressing a hand to his chest, he sat upright, choking on one wheezy breath after the other as he struggled to breathe. It was real. It hadn’t just been a nightmare...it had been a memory. Beck had outed him. On live TV. Everyone knew...everyone knew he was Spider-Man. And everyone thought he was a murderer. He’d seen the news stories before he’d come here...before they had found him.

Returning to his apartment had been out of the question...as had leaving MJ there in the street to fend for herself as his yearbook photo had flashed up on the big screen, the news story breaking world wide. And so, acting on instinct, he’d grabbed her hand, pulling her close enough that he could get an arm around her, then had lifted her, her legs wrapping automatically around him as she’d gasped. But all he’d been able to think about was getting out of here...and getting to safety.

Once they were on a rooftop closer to her apartment, the both of them huddled together by the roof entrance door, she’d finally spoken for the first time since seeing the news story. “What the hell?” 

Peter had shaken his head, ripping the mask off. “I didn’t kill him!” he’d cried, but she’d only shaken her head, looking more afraid than he’d ever seen her.

She’d gripped his upper arms, leaning in close to whisper practically in his face. “I know that, idiot! But...what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Peter had admitted, brain spinning. He couldn’t go home, he’d known that. He couldn’t put May at risk like that. And he couldn’t go to Ned’s place for the same reason. But he’d also known that he couldn’t put MJ in danger. “You have to go home.”

The girl had shaken her head, eyes wide and incredulous. “I’m not leaving you here!”

“MJ…” he’d started, reaching out and gripping his girlfriend’s hand in his own. “It’s not safe for you to be with me right now.” 

They were words he’d regretted as soon as she’d reluctantly agreed to go home...not because they were wrong. But because once she was gone, he was alone. Truly alone. It wasn’t like he could call for Mr. Stark...just the thought sent a jolt of pain through his chest. And it wasn’t like he could ask the Avengers for help. They were gone, scattered...and he was sure that his phone calls wouldn’t be hard to trace if people were looking for him...and people had to be looking for him.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know who Ross was. He knew about the raft. He couldn’t let them find him. 

He hadn’t dared call May, instead pulling out his phone and, with his eyes screwed shut, tears finally building, he’d squeezed his hand, crumbling the phone in his grip. Then, pulling on his mask, he’d spoken softly, voice wavering. “Karen?”

“Yes, Peter. I’m here,” she had assured him, voice kind as always. Supportive as always. It had never failed to escape his notice that even during the times that Mr. Stark hadn’t been around much, he’d thought to program an AI that would be there for Peter. Who would support him and listen to him, even going so far as to give him dating advice. With the Edith glasses tucked away, hidden away at home, Karen was all he had. 

“Karen...I don’t know what to do,” he’d whispered, feeling a tear drip down his cheek. Ignoring it, he’d soldiered on. “I….Karen, show me all the news about Spider-Man.”

“Of course, Peter.”

And for the next half hour, huddled on the rooftop, hiding as best he could beside a stack of wood pallets, he’d watched reporters call him a murderer, and he’d watched Secretary Ross call for his arrest. 

“That’s enough, Karen.”

Several times, she had suggested calling Pepper. Or Happy. But he hadn’t dared drag any of them into this. Hadn’t dared to contact them, lest they were being monitored too. Besides, Pepper had enough to worry about with her company and her daughter and...her husband. So instead, he’d webbed his way out of the city, briefly thought about going to the partially rebuilt Compound upstate...maybe Sam and Bucky would be there. He had doubted that they would turn him in. But they were busy, he knew...busy trying to keep what was left of the Avengers running. If there even were Avengers anymore. So he had decided to pick a city and hide out instead, figuring he could lay low for a while. Hide out...and then maybe one of the Avengers would reach out to him. 

Wrapping the blankets around himself, Peter shivered in the cold evening air and then froze when he heard footsteps. Closing his eyes, he started to lay back down...startled to huddle under the covers and try to get his breathing back under control. He could do this. He could calm down. It was just a memory. 

He’d spent three weeks on the streets. Three weeks hiding and, he was ashamed to admit, stealing to keep himself alive. Food had been found in dumpsters. Clothes in a charity shop that he’d stolen, fully intending to pay them back as soon as he could, keeping a list of everything he stole and how much he owed. But even curled up behind dumpsters with the snacks he’d managed to take from a convenient store, starving and feeling his head grow lighter and lighter from the hunger, he’d known that this wasn’t sustainable. 

Once or twice, he’d considered turning himself in. Considered throwing himself on Ross’s mercy.

The bedroom door was pushed open with a soft creak, then soft footsteps approaching his bed as he tried and failed to get the tears to stop. “Peter?”

“Hey, Mo,” he whispered, attempting to make his voice steady.

“I heard you yelling…”

“Sorry,” he murmured, reaching out when she did and lifting her onto his bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. Were you having a nightmare?” the nearly six year old asked, making herself comfortable at his side, and he tucked the blanket around her with a smile.

“Yeah...but I’m okay.”

“Daddy had nightmares when you were gone. He said they were because he missed you.” The words made his chest hurt, and he turned his head away from her, not wanting her to know that he was crying...that the thought of Mr. Stark missing him so much...of the man having nightmares about him, made him want to hunt down Thanos and kill him again. Snap his own fingers this time and make the monster disappear for doing this to them. For doing this to Mr. Stark. “He doesn’t have them anymore,” she whispered, laying her head on his pillow. Peter laid down too, his face on the other pillow as he forced a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Mommy said he’s a lot happier now.”

He liked the thought. Wanted to hold onto the idea that Mr. Stark wasn’t sad anymore...that the man didn’t have any regrets. That he was happy with his choices. It was more than Peter could say for himself.

Morgan was asleep in minutes, but Peter found himself laying on his back, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tried to stay quiet...tried not to wake her. 

He stayed in bed for almost an hour before slipping out as quietly as he could, covering her up snugly and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then, wrapping a robe around himself that had been a gift from Pepper, he headed out into the living room, then to the stairs, catching a glimpse of the Iron Legion stationed around the lakehouse. He could hear Pepper’s quiet breathing in her bedroom and, doing his best not to wake her, went down the steps to what Mr. Stark had repurposed into his new lab, complete with Friday and everything he’d need to do his inventing. From the moment Peter had stepped into the lab on his first night at the lakehouse, shivering and wrapped in the robe Pepper had placed on his shoulders the moment she’d seen him, he’d known that this lab was different. Everything dangerous or sharp was put up on high shelves, letting him know that Morgan was allowed down here. There was a sofa in the corner with a cartoon character blanket, and picture books stacked on a side table.

This had been a place for Mr. Stark and his daughter, not just a working lab. And at first, Peter had been hesitant. Almost afraid when given the invitation to take up his own space there. Now, two weeks into his stay at the lakehouse, he felt at home. Comfortable, as he moved over to the workstation he’d claimed for himself. On the table were his half-finished webshooter prototypes, and part of a new suit sat slung over a chair. Everyone had been impressed with his idea to integrate his webs into the suits fabric, and so he was giving it another shot. 

Building suits gave him something to do. Something to focus on.

Sitting at the workstation, he began to fiddle with the webshooters, a heaviness coming over him after an hour or two that he had been expecting. Nothing put him at ease like building...nothing else could take his mind off of his friends and his aunt, off of the times he’d sat behind dumpsters, starving and crying and wishing more than anything that Mr. Stark would come...would swoop out of the sky and save him like he had when he’d been a kid, around Morgan’s age, at that expo. 

A hand out his shoulder woke him, and Peter jerked out of a sound sleep, noticing at the last minute that he was drooling, and quickly brought an arm up to wipe his mouth with a grimace of disgust. Mr. Stark chuckled, bringing his hand up to ruffle his hair, then leaving it there. “I thought I’d find you down here.” It wasn’t a stretch...he’d found Peter here several mornings after he’d come to stay with the Starks.

“Sorry...couldn’t sleep,” Peter murmured with a sheepish smile. He knew that Mr. Stark didn’t mind him working down here...but he also knew the man was worried about him. About the nightmares. About sleepless nights and days spent obsessing over the news until Mr. Stark would change the channel, trying to distract him with projects or conversation as best he could, but the man was still healing.

It’s why Peter had been so surprised to see him after three weeks on the streets. 

It had been no big deal for people to cut through the alleys where he’d been sleeping. Peter hadn’t even woken up anymore, which was partially due to familiarity with the sound and partially because he was running out of fuel. He had known it...had known that a time would come soon where he’d have to make a choice...turn himself in or die here. But he’d been putting it off. Hadn’t wanted to go to the raft. Hadn’t wanted to hurt his friends and family even more.

This time, though, the footsteps had stopped, and the hand gripping his upper arm had woken him abruptly. At first, he’d been terrified, ready to fight. But then, when he’d opened his eyes, he’d been met with a sight that had shocked him even more than the sight of his own face on the big screen had. Mr. Stark had been there, one sleeve of his black Metallica T-shirt hanging loosely at his side, with sweatpants and tennis shoes and sweat beading on his brow. He’d looked awful...exhausted and in pain, and Peter had immediately tried to jump up to steady him...but his legs had refused to take his weight. “Mr. Stark?”

“God, Peter,” the man had whispered, shaking his head and dropping to his knees. Peter had grabbed him, trying to keep him upright, but Mr. Stark had pulled him close, wrapping his arm around him and hugging him so tightly that it had made tears spring to Peter’s eyes. Giving in, he’d pressed his face against his chest, sniffing softly. “You...I thought...Peter, I thought you were dead!”

He had shaken his head. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay!” Mr. Stark had cried, shaking his head. “You’re not. You’re starving...damn it, Pete...I can feel your ribs!”

“I’m okay, really…”

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Tony had demanded, pulling away and giving Peter a good look at his sunken face. When Peter had gone to Europe, the man had been bedridden. Barely able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, but still always so happy to see Peter...always gripping his hand and pulling him closer. When he’d knelt next to Peter in that alley, he hadn’t looked much better, with sallow skin and sharp cheekbones under his beard. 

“I couldn’t risk…”

“No, Peter, I can’t risk losing you. May can’t risk losing you. I mean...you...you ran away? How could you do that to us?” He hadn’t been angry...instead, he’d been devastated, which had been much worse.

“I couldn’t let them hurt May,” Peter had finally whispered, dropping his head in shame, and Mr. Stark’s hand had come up to cup his face, wiping gently at the tears running down his cheeks.

“May is fine, Peter. I’ve got the Iron Legion standing guard at her apartment...the lakehouse too. Bucky and Sam are in DC with Rhodey, trying to get all this straightened out. And they’re going to get this straightened out. Everything will be okay. I promise.”

“They think I’m a murderer.”

“Buddy...everyone that knows you know that you aren’t a murderer. That you could never be a murderer,” Tony had told him softly, cupping his cheek in his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Happy had rushed over them, helping the both of them to their feet, then yanking Peter into a rough, quick hug. “Scared the shit out of us, Parker,” he’d grumbled, but for a moment, he hadn’t let Peter go. The rest was a blur...they’d stopped at a drive through and Peter had eaten his fill for the first time in weeks, then had fallen asleep on Mr. Stark’s shoulder in the back seat, the man’s arm wrapped around him. Then the lakehouse...the robe around his shoulders and a quick tour, then a long nap on the sofa. 

When he’d woken, May had been there, sobbing and pulling him into her arms, and then they’d both been crying. He’d apologized. Hell, he still apologized whenever he saw her. She was able to visit under the guise of seeing Happy, who had been promoted to ‘boyfriend’, about once a week, but he missed her. 

Outside of the Avengers and May, everyone else still thought he was still missing. 

Every day he wanted to contact Ned and MJ. Every day, Mr. Stark reminded him that he just had to wait a little longer.

Now, with Mr. Stark’s hand on his back, watching him show the man his latest progress on his webshooters, he knew that he’d have to wait a little longer once more. But he wouldn’t have to wait forever. 

**Thank you for reading!**


End file.
